


100 Alternate Universes

by cinnamonsnaps



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Angst, Demonstuck, Fluff, M/M, Tricksters, all the aus, i'll put specific warnings by each one for y'all, we're talking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 07:18:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamonsnaps/pseuds/cinnamonsnaps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>okay maybe not literally 100.<br/>but a dang lot. a dang lot of johndave mini ficlets.<br/>uploaded in batches of three for your reading pleasure, like fine gay chocolates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stargazing, Music Shop, Surfing

_AU where they stargaze_

Dave looked at the night sky from his spot where he lay on the floor.  
"Look at the Milky Way," said John, pointing to a band of pale right across the black sky, and Dave couldn't help but look, couldn't tear his eyes away. The stars were so much clearer than on his own apartment block roof, where the orange enamel glow of the street lights hid each star, each constellation, until the sky was a buzzy cloudy ceiling above them.  
Not here, on this hill, on this blanket, far from any street lights or neon signs.  
There were trees around them, and infinity above them.  
John said breathlessly, "It's so clear. We're seeing it sideways, which is why it's a streak. Like when you hold a doughnut sideways so you can't see the hole." He laughed, while Dave tried to comprehend his easiness at talking about things bigger than stars. "We're just a crumb on a huge sparkly doughnut, Dave, and not even that. A glimmer. A bit of a glimmer."  
And the stars stretched out in front of him, and the distance pressed down on him, and for a moment his head was whirling as if he were being thrown off the spinning galaxy head first and suddenly Dave felt very small and alone.  
He was frozen under the beauty of the sky and John's hand was by his, unobtrusively, quietly, always there but never pressuring and ultimately so small in comparison to the rest of the universe that it almost didn't exist, really.  
Except it did, and Dave wanted to save it from oblivion, so he took it.  
His particle of a heart beat fast, and his filaments of nerves pulsed when John squeezed and interlaced their molecular fingers.  
Above, the stars swung in an eternally slow waltz around them.

_AU where John works in a music store_

Your ear for music is exceptional, your taste for a beat unrivalled. Music isn't a distraction or an amusement to you, but something you feel in your soul directly - your heart is a drum, your fingers are keys, your teeth are high hats and your feet are bass pedals. You are Dave Strider and you are music, completely, as cliche as it may be to say. You walk to the rhythm of whatever is on your music player.  
Well, you would. But your earphones are broken.  
Your new ones are in the mail and you're missing them, you're sorely missing them - your heart aches for basslines and codas. The walk from your work to the coffee shop would be so greatly improved by your private soundtrack, and the music is swelling in your head indignantly, a mix of a few songs that insist you listen to them right now - and you can't. You can only imagine.  
You walk past a store entrance, and either your imagination has reached dizzying heights of reality or they have an excellent sound system.  
You cop a look as you pass, taking in the postered blue walls, the low racks of CDs and records, the black haired boy concentrating at the counter-  
You've walked past. But the song playing is familiar, and you could never resist music shops (or people with black hair, whoops), so you walk backwards a little and enter.  
Black haired boy looks up impassively and oh. Oh he's cute. Dark skin and wide eyes and he promptly looks back down again as if you have nothing to offer him. The song playing has a fifties vibe, something like soul or motown with horns and jangly guitar.

"And he tries to pacify her, but the fire that's inside her never died."

You try to look nonchalant by the RnB section. The boy looks like he should smile, like he should make his dorky glasses shine from the inside. Instead, he stares down at his phone, and sighs. You pick up a CD - Snoop Dogg, who arranges these genres? - and make your way to the counter.  
He notices you, and his nametag reads "John".  
"Can I help you, sir?"  
You almost snigger with how polite that was, but you're nervous, so you don't.  
"Actually I was wondering - I'm getting a CD for a gift and I can't find the artist."  
He perks up a little. Maybe not many people actually need his help.  
"Oh, sure. What genre and stuff?"  
"Well actually...it sounds a little like what's playing now." So sneaky, Dave. Fucking smooth. "Do you know who it is because I can't place it man."  
"Amy Winehouse?" John looks at the speakers. "We have her last album still in stock, that might be what you wanted."  
"Yeah maybe." You tilt your head. "Is it good?"  
His eyes light up and he smiles for the first time. It's gorgeous. "It's an amazing album. It's really a shame there won't be another, you know? I like her music a lot anyway."  
You ask if he gets to pick the music playing and he nods, explaining how it's a major perk to working in such a small shop. The song changes midsentence, another Amy Winehouse, and it's suited to a dark, smoky bar with a melancholy scotch.  
"So you picked this song too?"  
"Yeah... so lemme find that album for you. It's here somewhere."  
He roots around in a few boxes in the corner (affording you a nice view of that ass wow) and pulls out the box.  
You subtly put down the Snoop Dogg album.  
He rings up the price, and you buy the CD, and he says he hopes your friend likes it, and you say thanks.  
For a moment the song reigns over the silence.

"... self professed, profound, until the chips were down..." 

You leave the shop with a wave, and this won't be the last time you visit this quiet shop with the sad boy with blue eyes playing heartbroken songs by dead tragedies. When you get home, you play the album on repeat on a dusty CD player you forgot you owned.

_AU where they surf_

The swell looks amazing. There are white horses out on the grey water and you can see the curl of the waves from here, and it sounds strange but your feet itch to be kissed by that first salty rush of water...  
You root around for change in your wallet next to a picture of your dad and your I.D. (what a dorky photo, black hair and braces and glasses oh my).  
The surf shop weighs up your order of board wax and the stoned looking dude behind the counter says it's a nice motherfucking day for it, huh.  
It is. Halfway through your conversation a guy comes to the counter behind you, so you move out of the way for him, conversation carrying on.  
What a complete douchebag, for sure. He's even wearing aviator shades and is blond and deeply tanned and his hair is bleached white by the sun and urgh. Urrrrgh he looks just like a surfer ought to look and so unlike yourself. You bet he could surf like a fucking pro too.  
He deliberates over the rental board, as you choose a locker to put your stuff in while you surf.  
"I'll take a bodyboard," he says in a deep voice and you expected Californian but you got southern twang and you're not sure what's _worse._ "Wait. No. A surfboard."  
Great, you're sharing the waves with mister surf god over here. Quickly and with a cursory goodbye, you exit the shop.

You struggled into your suit earlier in your car, which you fetch your actual board from now. Your baby. She didn't need waxing in the end, so you simply pull her out and start walking to the sea.  
You can hear her, the sea, beckoning loud and clear with her siren song of crashing waves. You forget all about blond douches and spacey stoners and concentrate on seeing the way without your glasses on.

It's when you're out on a swell and your legs are in the water and you're just waiting on a good wave, that mister aviators hits the water, sans aviators. He is, however, wearing a ridiculous pair of shaded swim goggles. Jesus what a dick. It's funny but it actually looks like he's struggling with his board, although it is pretty rough out. Shaking your head, you're taken by surprise when a perfect wave crashes around you, which you could have caught had you been concentrating. Dammit!  
The wind picks up a little now and you ignore worldly distractions in favour of actually doing what you meant to do, and yes, you enjoy it. A lot. You catch a good few waves and finally manage to get to your feet on one, and it's absolutely glorious to be riding the crest like you're flying. Nice. You get off pretty suavely, for once, and notice blond dude humping himself onto his board inelegantly. Wow... maybe he doesn't surf that often. You see him get on, look around, fall off. Okay. Wow.  
It's when he finally attempts to stand up and wipes out miserably that you have to bite back a laugh. He resurfaces after a moment, coughing and sputtering and tearing off his goggles before tripping and going under a breaker and okay you should probably help him out or something. You swim/walk your way over with board in tow, as he clings onto his for dear life.  
"Are you okay?" you call out, coming alongside him. He coughs again and weakly says something that sounds like "sports". He's taking deep raspy breaths of a person who's swallowed a throatful but isn't in immediate danger of drowning, and you feel bad for laughing. The hot shot is a total newbie to this, isn't he. 

And that's how you end up giving a pseudobeachboy a novice surfing lesson. You swap numbers.  
He looks good in a body suit.


	2. Youtube, Car Crash, Tricksters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw for blood on car crash  
> tw for... general tricksters and nonsmutty dubcon  
> tw for dumb youtube comments on youtube

_AU where John gets famous_

The views started trickling in. First by tens. Then hundreds. Suddenly thousands.  
John sat in front of his laptop, dumbstruck.  
"Dave. Just. Can you check something for me?"  
"Yeah?" Dave was in the kitchen, eating leftover pizza. That's what John would remember afterwards. Pepperoni and barbeque chicken.  
"Go onto my channel and uh... check the views on video 8 would you?"  
It took a few minutes. Then, Dave swore.

It had started so simple. A prank, filmed, put on youtube. Then, it progressed to jokes. Soon, to a vlog, then a short stand up routine every now and then, on the camera Dave had bought him once - not high definition, but definitely not built in webcam quality. Of course no one watched it because John was a nobody who'd survived the apocalypse and lived and therefore was destined to a quiet life of obscurity, except.  
Thirty thousand views.  
His other videos were getting popular too.  
There were so many comments. 

_hahaha lol I proper laughed at this :D_

_is he Single??_

_gay_

_BWAHAHAHAHA SMUPPET SEX BONANZA OMG >C_

John wasn't sure how to feel about this. The comments were the typical slurry of youtube, half praise, half requests and rambling and half obscene insults. There were a number of rather flattering opinions on his appearance, and one in particular which made him blush hard and feel very unsettled. 

"Dave..." He scrolled down the comments again, as Dave walked past on his way to work. "Dave, do you think I'm hot?"  
Dave stared at him. Dave always stared at him though, when he said something dumb.  
"Nope."  
"What about good looking, at least?"  
"Is this about the whole youtube thing?" He frowned. "Are people calling you ugly or something? John if they're threatening you-"  
"Uh no! Dave calm down!" John blushed again. "They're um. Complimenting me."  
Dave stared at him again, before slowly chuckling. It built up into uncontrollable laughter, much to John's indignance and protests of "it's true!! I'm not that ugly Dave!!!"  
Dave just walked away, wiping tears. 

He released his next video a week later, to check whether his newfound fame was just a fluke - video number 8, a lucky break. It was another stand up act, although he wasn't stood up and there wasn't any audience laughter so really it was just him doing situational comedy into a camera, but it seemed to work. Dave watched him from the sidelines for a while, giving a thumbs up at the good takes, pulling that typical Dave face at the bad ones.  
That night, after uploading it, he slept nervously: but really it was unlikely people would watch that one so much. One fluke video alone does not a celebrity make. 

People liked it. His subscriber count rocketed. He was living in shock and Dave was getting grumpy, and he didn't know why. Every video he released snowballed in popularity.  
Once, he got recognised on the street. The girl looked like she was about to faint and so did John, and Dave was standing awkwardly aside as they had their moment of dizziness until she suddenly spasmed and said "but you're Dave. The Dave. Dave the Flatmate."  
John wilted a little under his accusatory glare. Okay, so he'd poked fun at Dave a couple of times. Maybe more than that. Maybe he'd featured Dave in quite a few of his routines. They both ended up signing her chemistry folder. 

The subscribers kept coming, and the views kept mounting, and suddenly he was being messaged by so many people a day with vile hate that made him shudder, or with declarations of love and adoration. There were also hundred upon hundreds of requests to see the mysterious Dave, who padded around in socks and had weird eating habits and wore shades indoors. Maybe that was what made him famous, actually, since one of his most popular ones was entitled "What My Flatmate Did Today". Whoops.  
Dave refused to appear. The hordes would have to be content with anecdotes only.  
Until John decided to hold a question answer session video. 

Dave sat in front of the camera, looking generally unhappy with everything, while John introduced the video and what was happening. Why had he signed up for this?  
"Wow you guys sure did send in a lot! Okay first one... Do I ever make stuff up ? Haha, nope, everything you hear is..."  
Dave zoned out while John did his thing. Typical, that John would be the rising star and Dave would be the sidekick once again.  
"... meet Dave?"  
John pulled Dave into shot. "Say hi Dave."  
"Yo."  
"The audience wants to know why you wear shades all the time, Dave."  
"Inexplicable swag overdose when I was a baby. It was be cool or die, and I'm not dead."  
"Hmm... next question is, pepperoni or bacon?"  
They said "both" at the same time.  
"Oh okay this is a question for both of us. Are you and Dave dating since you mention him a lot?"  
While John pulled an unimpressed face at the camera, Dave was done. 100% done.  
"Yep. Gotta love my little chickadee here." He leaned forwards and kissed John on the cheek, before wandering off with a "later, honeybun".  
John blushed and raised an eyebrow at the camera.  
"We're not dating. Anyway, next question..." 

Soon, John learned about the existence of fangirls. Namely shippers.  
He told Dave that their ship name was Jave.  
Dave swore. 

_AU where there's an accident_

And then he was lying on the pavement.  
The noises had stopped into shocked silence. There were the groceries, all over the floor, John should probably pick them up, they were getting dirty.  
That guy had shoved him hard. There would be hand shaped bruises on his back tomorrow, for sure.  
John sat up, sight fuzzy without his glasses on. The street was a tableau of people staring at him, staring at the car screeched to a halt, staring at the mess of vegetables and blood. One minute he had been crossing the road, arms full, phone on his shoulder.  
Next, the screech of brakes. Hard hands on his back. Pavement. Smell of burning rubber and irritation at getting wet in a puddle.  
Somebody yelled, "Call a bloody ambulance someone!" and the spell was broken, and John was sick. Strange, but the pair of shattered aviators had triggered it more than anything. 

The figure was gaunt on the hospital bed, a thin pale stick, and John tried to configure this weak dying boy with the hero who'd saved him. This was all his fault, but he decided not to think about it.  
He'd gotten permission to sit beside him and watch the heart monitor beep, watch the chest rise and fall imperceptibly. Bandages covered most of his head but what John could see was pinched and vulnerable, and so young. They'd told him his name was Dave, and he was only a year younger than John.  
John tried to feel something. He couldn't. Not even guilt. He wondered if that was normal. 

He watched the chest rise and fall as if Dave was only sleeping, and played crosswords, and read books, and he knew he had to hold vigil but he didn't know why. He tried writing thank you letters. He dropped the pen too much. 

He visited Dave a lot. Once he'd run into a man with the same white blond hair, and pointy shades, sitting by Dave's bed, and said nothing. It was obvious who John was. The guy who killed Dave.  
They told him he'd been crossing legally, that the light was red, that the brakes had chosen the wrong time to screw up. John shrugged, and accepted the title of murderer easily onto his shoulders, and didn't think about it.  
The pointy shaded man had been crying but his face was expressionless and John felt nothing. The heart monitor beeped and beeped. John felt nothing.  
He stumbled backwards out of the room because the smell of antibacterial spray and blame was too much and he was suffocating, and he was irrationally angry at that shaded man for making him near to feeling, for accusing him with his silence. He went home and tried to eat, and couldn't, and tried to sleep, and couldn't, and tried to forget.  
He couldn't. 

There had been police, and interviews, and legal proceedings but they passed in a blur and his time was now Dave/not Dave. He didn't know a single thing about him. He didn't know what his voice sounded like, or his sense of humour, or his fashion sense or favourite joke or colour or animal and John went home and finally felt something and cried. 

_(not really an) AU where tricksters_

It was always a disconcerting feeling, to become wind and feel yourself fly apart into literal thin air - not to mention the gut sickening feeling in your navel of literally becoming unstuck from canon. Each jump, you got a little better at it, or so you'd like to hope.  
Your feet land on yet another unfamiliar surface and you are hit by firstly, how purple everything is (so this is Derse! you think), and secondly, the acrid smell of burnt sugar. There's a boy in front of you that you don't recognise, facing away from you. His hair is brightly coloured; in fact, everything is brightly coloured, and when he turns round and you can see his grinning face with those heart shaped shades all you can see is swirling colour. The red curls on his cheeks seem familiar.  
He seems familiar.  
"Dave...?" you venture, raising an eyebrow.  
He giggles and oh, okay, floats nearer. "Joooohn!! John my buddy my bro my babe you turned up!!"  
"Uh..." Whoever this guy is can't be Dave. It's his voice, sure, but you've never heard it so upbeat and expressive. It's near yelling, and his Texan accent is comically strong. "Are you okay?"  
"I'm so great I'm so happy John!!" He doesn't seem to understand personal space, swooping closer and closer until you can count the pixels of- is that fucking apple juice on his head?  
"Happy? Should I ask?"  
He grins too wide. What happened to the pokerface?  
"We're all gonna get married John. Me and Rose, then Jade, plus you too. We all talked about it and we're gonna get group married isn't that dandy??!"  
You stare at him. "What are you talking about? Why would we... what?!"  
He leans uncomfortably close and whispers in your ear, "I'm going to marry you so freakin hard, sweetums. We're gonna have so many little babies!" He snorts and laughs hard enough to stop his own breathing while you watch in muted confusion and nervousness. You try to edge away from the artificial saccharine smell and the huff of his breath on your ear.  
"Are you drunk? You're acting really dumb. So dumb."  
"Drunk?? Aw hell naw John liquor is sicker but candy is dan-fucking-dy. I just wanna marry you! I want your little Egbert babies. We could call them all Casey!!"  
He's making less than no sense and he's really freaking you out now.  
"I don't want any babies, Dave. Not right now. Anyway, men can't get pregnant dumbass!"  
He pouts right in your face, his hips pressing into yours lightly. Uncomfortable, getting uncomfortable-  
"John! Rose is going to have my babies. You're being so rude!"  
He reaches up a hand and pulls down his ridiculous heart shades, and you're treated to the sight of ridiculously huge huge red irids, where his pupils are tiny disconcerting dots in a sea of red, swirling with green. That's freaky. You're freaked.  
"Dave please," you're not sure what you're asking for, "knock it off okay? Just be... I don't know, normal!"  
"I am normal!" He pushes the shades up to the top of his head and you may be crazy but his eyes begin to twirl, round and round... "I'm normally amazing!"  
"That doesn't make sense!" you try to say but he cuts you off with a million tiny kisses and he's close enough that you can smell his skin. Overripe strawberries.  
You gently push him away. ""Why are you being so touchy feely all of a sudden? Dave I don't, hey don't do that!!"  
He had leant forwards to kiss under you jaw. Chills go through your spine. It tickles and you freeze up because it feels nice and it shouldn't because yeah, the whole being straight thing. That's still a thing. Plus this is your bro, or so he keeps saying.  
"John," he says it like Jawwwn, "why ain'tcha gonna loosen up?" His teeth scrape, oh so lightly, down your neck. You push him back again to hide the hitch in your breathing.  
"Because this is dumb. Dumb and lame. Now sober up already so I can hang out with my best normal bro and we can do normal bro things together."  
"No can do!" He giggles in high pitched bursts and his eyes line up with yours, and you're frozen in place. "We're gonna get married and I just know you'll love it!" Everything presses forwards against you, til there's pressure on your hips, your chest, his hands on your arms. "Come on and kiss your husbandbro, bro!!"  
"I'm not gay Dave you know this." You can barely hear it yourself.  
This weird, pastel goth version of Dave with his stupid heart shades and his dumb technicolour hair is dangerously close to your lips, and for all the parts of you freaking out there is one small voice saying "yeah, but..." and what if he's hypnotising you to think that?!  
(... What if he isn't?)  
It's gonna happen. You swallow one last time, nervously. Oh for fuck's sake...  
The familiar feeling of becoming not real overwhelms you and your vision is completely white and light blue before you land, dazed, on no ground at all.  
For a dizzying moment you grasp out for Dave to realise you've jumped.  
Thank god... but where to?  
Oh great, not Dave and Jade fighting _again._


End file.
